Derrick barreled to a stop a few feet away from the fire engine, and the sheriff’s car zoomed up the drive. After swerving to park, Bryce threw his car door open just as she slammed her own shut and ran toward the house.
The wind swirled the fire higher into the sky, wood crackling and popping as the ferocious flames ate at the wood frame. The firemen jumped from the truck engine, the captain barking orders as workers rolled out hoses to try to douse the carnage.
Heat seared Ellie’s skin as she approached the house, and the windows exploded, shattering glass everywhere. “Mom? Dad?” Ellie shouted.
“Stay here, miss,” one of the firefighters yelled as she stepped forward. But if her parents were in there, she had to save them.
Ignoring the warning, she ran towards the back of the house to see if the fire had spread there, but Derrick dragged her away as the roof collapsed in a mind-numbing roar.
Shock robbed her breath, and she gasped, coughing as smoke filled her lungs. Derrick hauled her toward a live oak to the side of the house while two of the firemen rushed up the porch steps, using axes to hack away the door and spraying water as they entered. Bryce stood by the fire truck, swiping a hand across his face as he watched the chaos.
Fear clogged Ellie’s throat, paralyzing her. She’d been so angry at her parents the last few weeks she hadn’t spoken to them.
But she didn’t want them to die.
“I’m going to talk to Waters,” Derrick said. “Stay here, Ellie. Let the firemen do their jobs.”
Dizzy with emotions and from the smoke, she didn’t argue. Her eyes were glued to the door to see if her parents made it outside. Unbidden, images of her past flickered in her head.
Running through the front yard chasing fireflies and collecting them in mason jars. Her father tossing the softball in the yard with her. Digging for worms behind the house to fish in the pond.
Her mother decorating the lawn with silly Christmas blowups in spite of the fact that the other ladies at the garden club had disapproved. Every Easter when she’d begged Ellie to wear a frilly dress…
The memory tickled her conscience with sudden affection for her mother. Vera had actually caved one time, telling her interfering friends that little girls didn’t always have to wear dresses. It had been out of character, but that gesture had given Ellie hope that they wouldn’t always be at odds. A hope that soon fizzled.
Wood splintered and the flames popped, shattering Ellie’s memories. The right side of the house collapsed, her childhood bedroom engulfed in the blaze. Flames licked at the windows and the fire hissed into the night as if it was a live, breathing monster.
Despite being entranced by the horror unfolding, a movement to the right suddenly caught Ellie’s eye.
She quickly turned, spotting someone running away. They were heading toward the woods behind the house.
Ellie sprinted after them, dodging falling debris and embers as the walls collapsed, destroying all her memories. Scanning the property, she saw the man again. But she couldn’t tell who it was.
He was wearing a dark hoody, ski mask and black sweats, his face in the shadows as he glanced back at the burning house, then at her. His body went rigid, then he darted through a thicket of pines.
Ellie dashed toward him through the smoke-filled air, her feet flying as she wove between the trees and bushes. He veered to the right, and she snaked her way through the woods, keeping her eyes trained on him and closing the distance. Nearing him, panting with the exertion, she managed to catch him just as he began to climb a hill.
Snagging his jacket and yanking at him, he tumbled backward with a grunt, then spun around and came at her with his fists. Ellie threw her arm up to deflect the blow and managed to knee him in the groin.
His bellow of rage rent the air, his fury seemed to be fueled, and he dove at her headfirst, knocking the air from her lungs. Before she could reach her gun, he threw her to the ground and closed his hands around her neck. His fingers dug into her windpipe, cutting off her air.
Sixty-Two
“Do you know what happened here?” Derrick asked Bryce, studying the smoky scene before him. “Was it started by one of the protestors in town?”
Bryce rubbed a hand over his clean-shaven jaw. “I don’t know, but I intend to find out. The protests against Randall have gotten out of hand. I’ve broken up two now that have almost turned violent.”
“I requested copies of the hate mail he received,” Derrick said.
“Why do you want them? So you can gloat?”
The sheriff definitely had a chip on his shoulder. “Because it could be possible that one of them is the Weekday Killer. And he’s targeting Ellie to get back at Randall.”
Bryce’s eyes narrowed. “I asked Randall about the mail, but he hasn’t sent it to me.”
Two of the firefighters emerged from the front of the house, one carrying Vera, who appeared to be unconscious. The other was helping Randall through the clouds of smoke to the safety of the lawn.
Glancing back at Ellie, Derrick realized she was gone.
“Where’s Ellie?”
Bryce snapped to attention. “Did Detective Reeves go inside?” he shouted to the firefighters, who shook their heads.
Hearing a strangled sound, Derrick turned, spotting Ellie coming round the side of the house through the smoke. She looked like a ghost rising from the ashes. But she staggered slightly. Something was wrong.
An ambulance careened up the driveway, siren wailing, lights twirling, as he sprinted towards Ellie.
When he reached her, he noticed a dark bruise forming on her cheek. Her breathing was unsteady. “What the hell happened?”
She pushed her hair from her face. “A man, saw him running out back,” Ellie said breathlessly, her troubled gaze meeting his. “I tackled him but he got away.”
“Did you recognize him?”
“No, his face was covered.” She wiped at the blood on her lip. “But he set that fire and tried to kill my parents.”
Sixty-Three
Ellie watched with a sickening feeling as her family home crumbled to the ground. All the memories, the holidays, her whole childhood was wrapped up in those rooms. It would soon be nothing but dust.
But she didn’t have time to dwell on it. Her parents’ lives were at stake.
Hurriedly, she crossed the lawn to check on them, relieved that they were out of the burning building, her heart thudding as the medics placed an oxygen mask on her mother’s face. Derrick followed her, watching stoically as she approached her parents.
“Good lord, Ellie, what happened?” her father asked, looking up at her.
“I chased a man leaving the scene. I think he set the fire.”
“Are you all right?”
“Yes.” Ellie’s heart shattered as she glanced at her mother. “Are you okay? How’s Mom?’
“I’m… I’m fine. But your mom, I don’t know.” Her father’s voice cracked. “I found her passed out in the dining room and they barely got her out.”
Vera lay limp, eyes closed, her skin a ghostly white. Ash stained her cheeks and her mint-green warm-up suit was covered in black dust.
Ellie’s gaze met her father’s terrified one. Bruises darkened his face, soot covered his skin and clothing, and blood seeped from a gash on his forehead.